Unfulfilled Wishes
by Carnett Rose
Summary: He had reached out to her, but in vain. And that moment never failed to haunt her every day. Slight UlquiHime one-shot


A/N:- Okay, I know this has been done _countless _times before. But still, I think my interpretation might be just different from usual. If this story comes close to resembling any other fic written before, then by all means, it is purely unintentional. Do remember this is after all my first Bleach fic. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: I wouldn't be here if I owned _Bleach. _

* * *

"_Do I frighten you, girl?"_

"_No, you don't."_

"_I see."_

And before their hands could even touch, let alone clasp for that final comfort, one of the hands simply disintegrated into drifting dust.

Ulquiorra Schiffer, the _Cuarta Espada_, had met his death a little too soon. It was as if he never deserved even a vestige of human touch, a befitting punishment for the representative of death and emptiness.

* * *

If there was anything in particular that haunted Inoue Orihime from the aftermath of the Winter War, it was _this _scene. The death of Ulquiorra.

It wasn't that the rest of journey after that fight had been a walk in the park; no, it got even more violent and gory than before. It wasn't that she didn't care for her friends, who came all the way to rescue her, who had almost died innumerable times fighting that she didn't contemplate about them. No, it wasn't like that...

The fact was that her captor had left behind a trail of cryptic responses, which held the least bit of sentiment. It was typically uncanny of him, and it puzzled her.

It was a mystery unsolved and it would continue to haunt her till she could finally make _any _sense of it.

Her memory of him was still precise. The emerald eyes, living up to the gemstone's characteristic features, lacking any emotion thereof; the permanent tear marks that conjectured an almost ominous trait; the pale, dead white countenance; the impassive demeanour; the aloof and indifferent expression; the stoic appearance... she remembered _everything_.

Even his words, the way he would speak, in that non-committal and unemotional tone that still managed to leave an impression, at times so painful to a sentimentalist like her that she didn't know what to do, or at times, do completely unexpected.

Like the time she had slapped him involuntarily, an action which could have far worse repercussions, but there were none.

_If I tear open your chest, will I see it in there? If I shatter your skull, will I see it in there?_

She also remembered the touch of his ivory fingers, cold and remote, which he had placed on her breastbone and forehead. The momentary feel left an indelible mark on her, which she assumed she could never forget.

An indistinct sketch of disjointed incidents, only to culminate that fateful day, when he vanished before her eyes...

What did it leave her with?

The answer stared at her as she finally recalled the unusual look in his eyes moments before he had died.

It left her with _guilt. _

Regret. Helplessness. A sinking feeling of despair. Tearing apart from his facade, Ulquiorra had reached out for a last remnant of feeling, the very same thing which he had considered delusional. And she, Orihime, couldn't give it to him.

_And here I was, finally starting to take an interest in all of you._

If only he had asked for this a little before, she tried to reason with herself countless times. But no, he _wouldn't _have asked for it, not before he was brought to the very doorstep of death, where even an Espada like him had been humanised.

The scene replayed in her mind every night when she would retreat into a deep slumber. And she would wake up feeling the same dread every time.

_I couldn't help him. So pathetic of me, so very useless of me..._

She only wished she could turn back the time. But the reality was now etched into the history of times.

_Ulquiorra-san, I'm so sorry. _

If only she could convey these words to him. If only he could hear her speak this.

_If only..._

Such supposed promises will never relieve her of the guilt but there was something else.

She would have sworn upon her life that if she could get across her apology, Ulquiorra would have smiled.

That moment would have fulfilled a lifelong need of warmth, of assurance that _someone _didn't dislike him for once.

It is this picture that finally brings peace to her mind that allows her to sleep again.

_Someday, this wish might become a reality, Ulquiorra-san._

She only hoped they could meet in the distant future. Till then, this image of him was her only solace...


End file.
